Opportunity Only Knocks Once
by SSAEmilyHotchner
Summary: Emily and Hotch are called into Strauss's office for a talk involving their relationship. When Strauss leaves for an emergency meeting, what do our two favorite profilers do?
1. Knock Knock

Author's Note: What lovely activities can a ping pong racket, ping pong ball, and some boredom inspire? Mix in some (a lot of) desire and a fair amount of adrenaline, and you've got it: smut. Written for the ever so awesome Smut Club Challenge, and inspired by (based on) SussiRay's entry. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. Although, I do have a ping pong set...

Location: Strauss's office  
Object: Ping pong racket

* * *

"Um…Agent Prentiss?"

Emily looked up from her paperwork and saw technical agent Gina Sharp standing by her desk. "Oh. Hey, Gina. What's up?"

She smiled slightly. "Nothing really. But Strauss would like to see you in her office."

Emily stood. Raising an eyebrow, she asked, "Did she happen to say why?"

"No."

The profiler sighed. "Alright then." Without another word, she left the bullpen and took off towards the section chief's office.

~.~.~

Aaron Hotchner vaguely heard the sound of heeled footsteps coming down the hallway. He looked up just in time to see Emily take a seat right next to him.

"Hey," he greeted quietly, giving her a small smile which she immediately returned.

"Hey." Crossing her legs, she said almost sarcastically, "So, she got to you, too?"

He snorted humorlessly. "Yeah. I've been waiting here for a couple of minutes. I think she's talking to Anderson."

"Hmm."

They both drifted into a somewhat awkward silence, where the only sound was Emily anxiously tapping a boot-clad foot onto the dark brown wooden floor, each sharp beat echoing loudly in the large, empty hallway.

After a few minutes, and about five exasperated sighs from Emily, Hotch finally spoke.

"You're really impatient, you know that?" he asked jokingly.

"Thanks," she answered sarcastically. Sobering, she said, "I wonder what she wants…"

"I have no idea." He paused as an idea hit him. "Hey, you don't think that she knows about -"

"No, it's impossible. We've been careful," she interrupted.

"True." But he wasn't convinced. "What if she asks?"

"Well, look at it this way," Emily began objectively. "We could lie. But if we lie, and she finds out the truth, we're going to be in deep shit."

"So…we tell her?"

"I don't know. However, she can't possibly know about us, since we haven't seen each other in -"

"_Way_too long," Hotch interjected.

"Exactly." She smiled.

"I've missed you, you know," he said quietly.

"I know. Same here," Emily responded.

"Maybe…if we don't have a case this weekend…you could come over to my place? For dinner?"

Emily didn't get a chance to answer because suddenly, Strauss's office door opened and Anderson emerged, saying, "She'll see you both now."

The two agents rose from their chairs and walked into the evil woman's lair, Hotch shooting Anderson a glare in the process.

"Have a seat," Strauss said coldly. They obliged.

"With all due respect, ma'am," Emily said, in a tone that didn't convey too much respect, "What is this about?"

"I will get to that in a moment, Agent Prentiss," the woman replied brusquely. Emily rolled her eyes. "As I was about to say," she continued, "I've had an agent approach me and say that he has seen some…things…between you both."

"What sort of things?" Hotch asked, as Emily asked, "Which agent?"

"That isn't really your business," Strauss said, in a chastising tone of voice.

"Well, seeing as this pertains to us, I don't see how it _isn't_ our business," Emily said, getting more and more pissed off.

"Emily…" Hotch whispered. She turned to him and shot him a look that visibly said, "Don't Emily me."

"Agent Prentiss, do not use that tone with me." Emily scoffed and would have said something else, but the section chief's phone rang. "Erin Strauss. Yes…now? I'm in the middle of something…Well, if it's absolutely _urgent_…yes, I'll be there in five minutes." She turned to the two silent agents sitting in front of her. "Something important has come up. It will only take around thirty minutes, so it would be best if you just stay here." And without further ado, Erin Strauss left the office.

Leaning back in her chair, Emily scoffed. "I hate that bitch…"

"Emily, calm down," Hotch said, placing his hand on her arm.

"I can't! She brings out my bad side!"

"She's looking for any small excuse to tarnish your record. You know that," he continued, the voice of reason.

"I _do_know that. But who does she think she is? 'Agent Prentiss, do not use that tone with me,'" she mocked. "Like I'm a rebellious teenager and she's my mother." Hotch was about to speak again, but she cut him off. "Don't forget, she's the one who told me to be her spy and find some dirt on you so she could fire you."

He grimaced. "I will never be able to forget that. And I honestly don't blame you for being pissed. But please don't give her any excuses." He paused. "But…to your credit, you never did tell her anything about me."

"Of course not." She smiled. "You didn't know it at the time, but I had some pretty strong feelings for you."

He grinned, and they drifted back into silence. Bored, Emily looked around the room, her gaze landing on something oddly out of place.

"Why the hell does she have a ping pong racket on her desk?"

Hotch glanced at where Emily was motioning to. Sure enough, a red, wooden racket was sitting on the corner, on top of a group of files. "Where's the ball?" he asked.

"Here." Emily picked up the small white ball and placed it on the racket. Bouncing it up and down, she filled the office with the sound of small taps.

He smirked. "Wow, you must really be bored."

"There's nothing fun to do in here," she explained. Barely a few seconds later, she felt Hotch's hand creeping up her shirt. Catching the ball, she slapped his hand with the racket. "Aaron Hotchner, just what do you think you're doing?"

"Having fun," he replied innocently, his hand traveling higher. "Besides, we have thirty minutes…"

"Is this some bizarre fantasy of yours?" she asked jokingly. "Banging it out in Strauss's office with the risk that we could be caught?"

"Maybe…but when you say it like that, it sounds horrible." His lips found the corner of her mouth. "Come on, it's been forever. And we'll make it quick."

Emily spun around. There _was_ a couch… "Fine with me," she relented, standing.

A school-boyish grin slowly spread across Aaron's face. "Perfect."


	2. Who's There?

Author's Note: What lovely activities can a ping pong racket, ping pong ball, and some boredom inspire? Mix in some (a lot of) desire and a fair amount of adrenaline, and you've got it: smut. Written for the ever so awesome Smut Club Challenge, and inspired by (based on) SussiRay's entry. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. Although, I do have a ping pong set...

Location: Strauss's office  
Object: Ping pong racket

* * *

They began undressing each other, every once and a while glancing back at the locked office door.

"I can't believe we're doing this," Emily murmured as she pulled off Hotch's shirt.

"Hmm…but you're not objecting, are you?" he asked, undoing the clasp of her bra and letting it fall to the ground.

"Are you kidding me? Of course not." As if to prove her point, she kissed him fiercely, letting her tongue dance with his in a battle of dominance. Needless to say, he won, and they fell back onto the couch. Emily quickly got rid of his undershirt and pants. "You wear _way_ too many layers," she said as she straddled his waist.

As she leaned forward to kiss his bare chest, he caught a breast in his mouth, and began rolling her nipple into a hard peak with his tongue. He moved to the next breast and Emily let out a breathy moan.

"Shhh," he said, his lips finding her pulse point and sucking. "We have to be quiet, remember?"

"Then stop tempting me," she retorted, her hands finding his underwear and cupping his erection, smirking as she felt him instantly grow harder under her touch.

He let out a hiss as she squeezed him not very lightly. "Emily…"

"Yes, Aaron?" she asked innocently, trailing her tongue across his muscled body, her pebbled nipples pressing into his chest.

"Stop. Please," he almost begged.

"Now, is that what you really want?" she taunted.

"Yes," he choked out.

"Alright. Your loss." She pulled off his boxers, but her fingers faltered when she felt him stroking her pussy. "Oh God…"

He smiled slyly. "You like that, don't you?"

Unable to find her voice due to the increasing sensations, she nodded, moaning slightly when he inserted a long, nimble finger inside her core.

"Quiet, Em," Hotch chastised. Shedding her _very_ wet lace panties, his hands went to her hips and pulled her down to his cock, his tip teasing the glistening wet folds.

Finding it hard to restrain herself, Emily sunk down lower, finally inserting his large member into her pussy in the process. Because time was of the essence, she began thrusting deeply, holding back any sounds that were threatening to escape.

"God…you're tighter than I remember…" Hotch whispered.

Emily hummed contently as his hands caressed her sides. But this was no time to go slow, or take it easy. If they wanted this, and they both did, they would have to hurry.

However, that didn't mean that either was going to hold back. In order to maximize his pleasure, she clenched her muscles tightly around his cock. Hotch shuddered at the feeling, and Emily couldn't help but smile. "Works every time," she thought.

Then it was Hotch's turn, and he was going to be merciless. He tangled his fingers in her dark brown hair and pulled her down for a kiss. After a while, his lips made their way to her neck and bit down roughly, causing her to cry out in pain and pleasure. Before he could say anything, Emily hissed sharply, "How am I supposed to stay quiet when you torture me like this?"

He chuckled. "What do you mean, torture?" he asked. Meanwhile, one hand traveled down to her core, his thumb alternating between pressing, stroking, or flicking her sensitive clit.

Emily closed her eyes. The thought that at any moment, someone could walk in and catch them flooded her veins with adrenaline. And it felt wonderful. As his ministrations continued, she let out a long sigh. She was _so _close, and desperately needed to relieve the pressure. She began thrusting even faster, pushing him deeper and deeper into her folds.

His tongue trailed along the length of her ear. "Come for me, Emily," he whispered, seduction bleeding through his low voice. He began nibbling on her skin again, and that was all that it took for her to come undone, him following close behind and spilling his hot seed into her. Due to her intense climax, Emily bit down hard on his shoulder to prevent from screaming in ecstasy. He winced at the sharp pain.

"Sorry," she managed in a breathless whisper.

"Don't be. That was amazing," he answered, lazily kissing the base of her throat.

"Hmm…except that I don't bring concealer to work."

"What?"

"That bite on my neck. It's going to leave a pretty red mark. At least your shirt covers yours."

He chuckled softly. "Sorry about that."

She smiled. "Don't be."

Underestimating the size of the couch, Hotch moved to hover over her…but they rolled off the couch and onto the floor. Emily lost her breath for a second as she became sandwiched between the carpet and her lover's naked body. Admiring his ass, she thought, "Not bad…"

Hotch was flustered. "Emily, are you okay? I'm so sorry!"

Regaining the ability to breathe, she laughed. "I'm fine, trust me."

Soon after, Hotch was laughing with her. "Thank God."

In order to distract herself from the open-mouthed kissed he was peppering on her skin, she asked, "So, since when were you so opportunistic?"

"Ever since I met you," he answered with a smile. "Besides, you've heard that saying, 'Opportunity only knocks once.'"

She smirked. "Opportunity has knocked plenty of times, Aaron," she said. His smile grew. "First, in your office. Then, in the locker room. The SUV during that one stakeout…"

"Don't forget the elevator," he inserted smartly.

She gave him a sultry smile. "Exactly. And now here."

"Hey, you never know. One of these days, I just might take you on the jet…"

"You wouldn't dare."

"Oh, really?"

Their playful banter was interrupted by the sound of footsteps at the end of the spacious hallway. Emily and Hotch glanced at each other in shock.

"Shit!" Hotch exclaimed, as the frantically scrambled off of each other and gathered their clothes.

Strauss was coming.


	3. Anderson

Author's Note: What lovely activities can a ping pong racket, ping pong ball, and some boredom inspire? Mix in some (a lot of) desire and a fair amount of adrenaline, and you've got it: smut. Written for the ever so awesome Smut Club Challenge, and inspired by (based on) SussiRay's entry. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. Although, I do have a ping pong set...

Location: Strauss's office  
Object: Ping pong racket

* * *

Erin Strauss approached her office door. Fishing around in her jacket pocket, her eyebrows knitted together in confusion. Where was her key? She eventually found it at the bottom of her purse. Walking back into the office, she made her way to her desk and faced her two least favorite agents.

"Sorry about that," she said without much apology evident in her voice. "Now…where was I?" She paused to rearrange her thoughts. "Oh, right." She turned her steely gaze to the two skilled profilers and was about to begin her interrogation when she saw a red stain on Hotch's white dress shirt. "Agent Hotchner, I think you're bleeding."

Hotch looked at her. "I'm what?"

"Bleeding. Your shoulder."

Emily had to use every single ounce of willpower she had to keep a straight face and not burst out laughing. "Are you okay?" she asked innocently.

Reaching forward and grabbing a Kleenex, he cleaned the area where Emily had bitten him. Hard. "Yes, I'm fine." Looking back at the section chief, he prompted, "You were saying?"

Strauss cleared her throat. "An agent has reported that he suspects you two are in a relationship."

Hotch coughed. "That's ridiculous."

Emily couldn't help it; she laughed.

"Agent Prentiss, what is so funny?" Strauss asked coldly.

She shook her head. "I agree with Hotch; that's ridiculous. Who on Earth told you that?"

Strauss paused. Should she tell them or not? "Agent Anderson."

Hotch's hands unconsciously fisted. Emily snorted. "Well, that explains it." Strauss raised an eyebrow. "He's jealous," Emily clarified.

"Excuse me?" Strauss asked. "I don't follow…"

"He's asked me to dinner more than once. All three times, I declined. He doesn't like Hotch very much, so he just made up a story about us being together." Hotch looked at her in shock, but Emily ignored him.

"So…you weren't kissing in his office?" the woman asked, slightly deflated.

"Of course not!" Emily exclaimed, as Hotch shook his head. "I mean, I don't know about Hotch," Emily continued, glancing at the man sitting next to her, "But I'm seeing someone else. Outside of work," she lied convincingly.

Strauss was quiet. Less than a minute later, she said, "Well, then I'm sorry for the confusion. You may both go back to work."

Emily and Aaron gladly stepped out of her office. Once they were a safe distance away, Hotch said, "That was a close one."

"It was. But luckily for both of us, I'm an amazing liar. I can't believe she fell for it!"

"Has he seriously asked you out three times?" Hotch asked incredulously.

She smirked. "Yeah."

"Jackass."

"I know, right?" Turning to him, she stopped. "You know, next time, it might be a good idea to close your blinds."

He laughed. "Definitely. Anderson's such a snoop."

"He must really hate you," Emily said, chuckling.

"Well, the feeling's mutual."

They were nearing the glass doors to BAU headquarters when Emily spoke again. "So, you mentioned something earlier about dinner at your place?"

He smiled. "Yeah. If you're free tomorrow night…or even tonight. Jack's at Jessica's," he added.

She smiled back. "That sounds great. Tonight at say…" She glanced at her cell phone to check the time. "Eight?"

"Perfect. There's just something I've got to do first," he said, opening the doors and entering the bullpen.

"What?" she asked curiously, watching as he walked determinedly to his office.

Leaving Emily by her desk, he stood on the catwalk and yelled, "Anderson! My office, now!"

The agent meekly glanced from Hotch to Emily before nervously making his way up to his boss's office.

Laughing, Emily relaxed in her leather desk chair and said to herself, "He is _so_ dead…"

* * *

Author's Note: And that's it! Hope you enjoyed it, and reviews are greatly appreciated! I'd love you forever and ever...


End file.
